


Acting On Impulse

by KelinciHutan



Series: The DC Stories [5]
Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelinciHutan/pseuds/KelinciHutan
Summary: Hearing Bart Allen toss off that he didn’t really have a team was doing things to Bruce’s blood pressure.  Maybe it was that it was so casual.  Somehow, it felt wrong for a boy that enthusiastic to be that accustomed to being alone.  Companion piece to "Being Bart."





	Acting On Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> I was not, initially, going to post this. I wrote it just to get it out of my head. Then I realized it lays some ground-work for another story in this…series or something?…that this is part of, so here 'tis.

Bruce had thought it was going to be a busy night when he’d heard Inertia had escaped into Gotham. He’d had Oracle send them all contingencies for super-speed metas, and he’d called Leslie to be on stand-by for injuries, since he was sure they’d get a few.

And then Tim had called him to say that there were _two_ speedsters in Gotham, and the second was chasing Inertia.

“I think…I think it’s…Impulse? Maybe?” Tim said. “The colors are right, but I can’t make out anything more than a blur.”

“Oracle?” Bruce said.

“No go. Not a single surveillance camera in Gotham could get a good shot of anything going that fast,” Barbara replied immediately. "I can try to retask one of the STAR Labs satellites, but their firewall is…a challenge. It'll take time, and with speedsters—"

“I’ve got a visual, they’re on Montegue,” Dick reported, breaking in. “I think the second speedster is…making more noise than he was before? Shouting, maybe? They’re headed east, Inertia’s made some kind of orientation change and… Whoa! They’re in the river! East River, off of Montegue, both speedsters, in the water!”

“Casualties?” Bruce demanded.

“None! They’re…hey! Lookit that! It _was_ Impulse! He’s got Inertia subdued and he’s taking Inertia…away. They’re gone. They’re not in the river anymore.”

“Heh. That was easy,” Tim shrugged.

“R, return to our patrol route. I’ll join you shortly. N, meet me at precinct…Eight-Four.”

By Bruce’s judgment, the Eight-Four was not actually the closest precinct to where Montegue let out into the river. It was, however, the one Impulse had probably seen, if he had chased Inertia past the intersection with Hicks.

Sure enough, he and Dick arrived just in time to find Impulse—who looked utterly terrified to see them—leaving the Eight-Four, with Inertia in police custody with the desk sergeant, who was apparently only just staving off a laugh.

Rather than wait for the two of them to come inside, Bart squared up and opened the door to them. But then he stood there, in the doorway, so that he and Dick were standing just outside the station with Bart standing just inside it.

Bruce was trying to remember if he’d ever dealt with a child this awkward before. Still, he had just captured Inertia with no casualties. So, Bruce made sure not to sound threatening when he said, “Impulse.”

“Hi, Batman! Hi, Nightwing!”

He sounded so _young_. And happy. What on Earth could be driving this child? He was much too cheerful to be dealing with the kind of ugliness he’d have to handle as a crimefighter.

“New protégé?” asked the desk sergeant, still on the verge of giggles.

“Nope,” was Bart’s immediate reply. “I’m not Bat-clan.”

Bruce tried not to frown at the phrase Bat- _clan_.

“I don’t really have a team.”

Wait. That could not be right. Bruce felt his heart squeeze a little in his chest to hear a child this young and reckless claim he had no team. Wasn’t he on the Flash’s team? Did Wally not _know_ where he was?

He’d said something else, but Bruce had missed it, too busy trying not to panic at the idea of Bart running around loose in the world _with no team at all_.

“Okay, well, thanks for the help,” said the desk sergeant.

Impulse did a weird, sidelong, edge step to move past Dick and Bruce just outside the doors of the station before racing off towards the nearest city limit.

“I thought he worked with Flash?” Dick said.

“So did I,” Bruce answered.

“He’s awfully young to be on his own,” the desk sergeant agreed, pulling out paperwork to start processing Inertia.

Impulse’s comment bothered Bruce. It bothered all through their—surprisingly quiet now that there were no speedsters in town—patrol that night. It bothered him when they returned to the Batcave at the end of it. It bothered him through his shower and as he chased Tim off of the Batcomputer and to bed. It bothered him as he tried to sleep, and when he woke up the next day.

It bothered him so much that he tracked down Tim in the library.

Tim was sprawled out on the floor, school books and notes everywhere, typing up an essay for school. He’d changed so much from the angry kid he’d been when Bruce had first taken him in. Bruce settled beside him and said, “What are you working on?”

“Civics. There’s a test on Constitutional Amendments,” Tim said. “You can get extra credit if you write an essay on the effectiveness of the justice system.”

“What’s your thesis?” Bruce asked curiously.

“That the system works great until you get to the actual prison part. At that point, past a certain level of violence, prison isn’t a deterrent or rehabilitation. They just…keep going around,” Tim sighed.

Bruce couldn’t argue with that. “Can I ask you something?”

Tim looked up curiously, then rolled up to sit cross-legged. “You look pretty serious, Bruce.”

“Is Bart Allen working with the Flash?”

Tim blinked. “What? No. He and Flash stopped teaming up…like, six months ago? Wally wasn’t…he couldn’t… Well, he sent Bart out to Max Crandall’s in Alabama. Supposedly he’s doing great there.”

“Supposedly?”

“Every time I call him, he talks about how great everything is. Max is great, Alabama’s great, school is great, things are great, it’s just…”

“Great.” Bruce frowned. “So he’s lying.”

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty much miserable. But that’s Bart. He’d never tell anybody. Poor kid.”

Bruce frowned. “He wouldn’t say anything?”

Tim looked up at him curiously. Like he was reevaluating whether or not Bruce was actually intelligent. “Okay, so Bart grew up in a computer program Ray Palmer built, right? And it was designed just to be temporary, so he was kind of not safe with the Legends when they took him out?  So they brought him to STAR Labs, and Bart is Barry’s grandson from an alternate Earth, so of course they team Barry's grandson with his...sidekick?  Or something? Only Wally, like, totally sucks at teaching people stuff and Bart has no concept of how things can actually hurt him, so Wally panicked and called Max and off Bart goes to Alabama—of all places—and that was right before Halloween—”

“Wally sent him off right before a holiday?” Bruce demanded. Because the story that had just tumbled out of Tim was terrible enough, but to do that just before a holiday was nothing short of mean. His head spun. It had never occurred to him that Wally would be so badly suited as a mentor.

“Well, Bart knew it was coming before then, but the actual move happened the week before. Anyway, so Bart’s been there, speed-reading his way through school, and he doesn’t know anything about _anything_. And Max is all zen, but he’s not really in the whole crimefighting club anymore, so Bart’s just kind of…on his own when he gets a case.” Tim sighed. “I don’t think he has anyone he really talks to very much. I mean, at this point, who can he ask for help? There aren’t a whole lot of people he could say anything _to_.”

Bruce sighed.

“Plus everyone rides him all the time.”

“Oh?”

“Wally never stopped yelling at him. Like, it was all 'I'm trying to keep you safe!' and 'You're not in a computer anymore!' but it was _constant_. And Max has…a particular way he does things that Bart is trying really hard not to screw up. Which, knowing him, he probably did anyway, so he’ll feel bad about that, too. Not to mention he’s terrified the Justice League is going to take his costume away any day now,” Tim said.

“Why would he think that?” Bruce asked shaking his head.

“Well…I mean. You did kind of say once that you didn’t think he really ever thought things through. His whole codename is you telling him that. Like, every time. So he has this vision of you swooping in out of nowhere and grounding him forever.”

Oh. Yes. That. Bruce looked out the window, trying not to cringe. He had said that to Wally, not realizing Wally was going to _call Bart Impulse_. It’s one thing to warn a person about an area a child is going to struggle. It’s another entirely for that person to name that child after their struggle so that they’d always be reminded of it.

He’d never thought Wally, of all people, would fare so badly as a mentor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…want to be mean,” Tim said quietly.

“You weren’t,” Bruce answered. “You’re right. That’s a great deal for a boy to carry on his own.”

“Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” Tim asked.

“Last night, Bart said he didn’t really have a team. He’s too young not to have a team,” Bruce said.

“He’s got the Titans!” Tim protested.

“The Titans only exist when they are called for,” Bruce sighed. “Otherwise, you only see one another for team practice once a month.”

Tim frowned. “Well, we still count.”

Bruce put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’re all good friends to him, but it isn’t your job to take care of him. That’s the job of the adults in his life. And it sounds like he needs more help than he’s getting.”

“The thing is, Bruce, I think Alabama _is_ doing him some good. Like, he’s bored out of his mind, but he’s also doing…tornado relief when there’s bad weather. Or hurricanes. Or, well, any major natural disasters all over the South. I’ve got some news articles. And he really does respect Max a lot. I have to read between the lines to get it, but I think Max really does like him, too,” Tim explained. “I don’t know what to do, or who to tell.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

His first idea was to call Crandall. Which reassured Bruce in about a thousand ways. Max Crandall obviously cared for Bart, and it showed in the way he spoke. Apparently Bart _had_ completely disrupted the man’s routine, but Crandall laughed it off saying that he’d needed some shaking up. Still, he was also very amenable to Bruce taking some time to train Bart a little now and then.

First, Bruce summoned Bart in to write a report on his capture of Inertia. Mostly just to get a feel for the boy and how he acted when—mostly—not under any stress. Granted, now that he knew Impulse was more than slightly afraid of him, he knew that Bart would be a little stressed. But, he also knew that no child Bart’s age could resist poking around the cave a bit, if given the opportunity. They had a dinosaur and twelve Batmobiles. As much as he would never, _ever_ , say this out loud, the Batcave was really just flat-out cool.

And Bruce had a special workstation set up that could withstand super-speed typing. Of course, Bart would end up typing faster than the computer could display the type, but there was nothing to be done about that until better computers were invented.

So, once Bruce gave him the location, Bart came as he was summoned. Of course, being himself, Impulse didn’t spend nearly enough time looking for the entrances to the cave and finally—terrifyingly—vibrated through one of the walls, nearly giving Bruce two heart attacks. The first when he thought there would be a cave-in and the second when Bart just fell straight down the cliff-face towards the river flowing through the cave. Bart, of course, reacted perfectly, and ran down the cliff-face, then back up the other side, coming to a dead stop about fifteen feet away from him.

Not in his Impulse costume.

Bruce turned to face his guest, trying to calm his racing heart. He was definitely going to have to teach this child to rely on things other than his speed to save his life. Like, for example, not randomly vibrating through things when he didn’t know what was on the other side. Calm down, Bruce. Breathe.

“Can I help you?” Bart finally said, sounding curious and very nervous.

Right. He was dressed out as Batman, staring Bart down. No wonder the child was nervous. So, rather than giving him the lecture about not vibrating through walls right then, Bruce said, “You never wrote a report on your capture of Inertia.”

Bart looked confused. “I didn’t know you needed one.”

“My city,” Bruce replied with a slight smile. He pointed to the workstation he’d set up for Bart. “You have until the end of the day.” Which, considering how fast Bart did things, was well over more than enough time.

Bart discovered the station was built to withstand super-speed almost immediately, so he began typing faster than Bruce could follow. Sure enough, it was faster than the computer could keep up, so it took him almost ten minutes to finish the report. Afterwards, much as Bruce expected, Bart started to poke around the cave, though Bruce noticed he was careful not to stray out-of-sight or touch anything (though there was clear longing in his face as he gazed at the case of explosive batarangs). A measure of respect. Or fear? Or maybe some of both?

Then, much to Bruce’s surprise, Bart _returned_ to the workstation and edited his report before handing it in and racing away. Apparently someone had managed to get at least that much caution into him.

Good. There was hope for the child yet.

Not that this report didn’t contain the amount of grammar and syntax errors Bruce would’ve expected from a fifth-grader, but that was where Crandall said he was in his education, so Bruce was satisfied. Except for the way his heart seized to know a child this young was pitting himself against hardened criminals with nothing more than the ability to run fast to keep him safe.

He asked Dick to keep an eye on the boy and got Barbara to mail him a communicator.

Every now and then, when Dick was out of town, he would swing by Bart’s area and sometimes lend a hand. Two times they were able to use the communicator to get Bart to Gotham to save one of the team when they were in trouble. One of those times, it was him. He and Alfred added a locker for Impulse alongside the others there. And, over the summer, Bruce folded Bart into the training days he ran the team through in the cave.

It went against the grain, having a meta-human on the team. In the cave, no less. Still, when weighed against the knowledge that Bart was just _on his own_ otherwise, Bruce couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

And Bruce started to feel his decision paid off when Inertia escaped custody in Gotham and Impulse responded to Oracle’s report in less than two minutes and had Inertia under control and in custody again, in less than fifteen minutes, and on top of Police Headquarters, no less.

Some of that might have been incidental, but it was, on the whole, a very neat collar. Bruce couldn’t have asked for a better one. Really, Tim and Gordon and he were just joining Bart on the roof to do the mop-up. And to top the whole thing off, Bruce could see Bart sizing up Jim Gordon, making conclusions about Gordon from available evidence.

The Batman “persona” didn’t allow him space to cheer. But he didn’t suppress the slight smile.

“New teammate?” Gordon asked curiously.

Bruce felt that little squeeze in his heart again when Bart froze. He was obviously casting around for an answer that didn’t involve just saying yes.

"An axillary member," Bruce said. "When necessary."

Bart looked _confused_. Dammit. This kid was going to take more work than he thought. He and Gordon watched as Tim and Bart left the roof.

"A meta-human on your team?" Gordon asked as they watched the two go.

"You've met him. He was working on his own. At his age. Meta or not, he needed help," Bruce replied.

Gordon gave him a sidelong glance. "So, what are you going to do with him?"

"Train him to use his brain," Bruce said. "It's in there, he's just…"

"Impulsive," Gordon said. "Yep. But I meant more about how he doesn't seem to think you really want him on the team."

"Noticed that, did you?"

"Hard to miss."

Bruce sighed. "It's going to take time. The last person to try and train him…turned out not to be up to the task."

Gordon just raised an eyebrow.

"He turned him out. Half-way across the country 'out,'" Bruce clarified.

Gordon winced. Then he gave Bruce a once over and finally said, "I don't know how you've managed to sell this dark-and-scary bit to everyone. You're a damn softie."

Bruce couldn't stop a half-smile. "Don't tell anyone. Reputation, you know the drill."

Gordon shook his head and made for the stairs. Bruce pulled out his grapple gun and headed in the direction Tim and Bart had gone. He had been planning to run Bart through his paces on a Gotham City patrol soon and tonight was as good a night as any.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The thing that had to get included here is Bart's origin story, 'cause I'm going to reference that here and there in other stories (which I may or may not ever write). One of those stories may or may not be actually telling Bart's origin story, which, in my head, involves the Waverider and some kind of timeline crisis or six, but I'm going to hold off on that for now and live with Tim's summation.
> 
> Also, aren't I _le clever_ with the title! Bruce takes action about Bart's situation. He acts on--or "with regards to"--Impulse. Geddit? (I know, I know, if you have to explain it, the joke isn't that good. Whatever.)


End file.
